


Hollywood Apocalypse

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:04:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is less than happy when, instead of taking some much needed r&r, Sam wants to work. That is until a series of mysterious deaths take them to Hollywood (which is cool) and to Dean's favourite b-movie star (which is awesome). His name? Misha Collins. Now if Dean can just keep Misha alive he might get the chance to test how sturdy those trailers are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hollywood Apocalypse

Sam was quiet during the drive from San Francisco to LA and that just made Dean drive faster. When Sam was quiet it meant he was thinking and the last thing he needed right now was time to sit and dwell on the sheer volume of shit that had been thrown his way over the past few months. He was still grieving over what had happened to their dad. They both were, but now Sam had the extra burden of knowing that their dad’s final words had been to tell Dean that he might have to kill his brother.

He’d never do it of course. He’d rather kill himself first, but just knowing their dad suggested it had to be seriously messing Sam up. As if that wasn’t enough there was Madison, the first girl Sam had let himself care about since Jess and he’d had to kill her. Seriously, if Dean didn’t know better he’d think the universe was playing one seriously sick prank on Sam. 

So what Sam needed right now, what they both needed, was something to take their minds off how massively screwed they were. Just for a few days.

What better place to do that than Hollywood? 

Of course Sam hadn’t wanted to go, but the kid never did know what was good for him. Losing himself for a few days on vacation in the land of movie stars and swimming pools was exactly what he needed. Dean’s big brother instinct knew these things.

It was going to be awesome. 

* * *

In Hollywood all the motels had names to do with movies but as soon as Dean had seen The Motel California, he’d known it was the one for them. He checked them in for a week and grabbed some fliers for the local attractions before they headed to their room.

Sam wrinkled his nose at the huge picture of Orson Welles that filled most of one wall. “Seriously? It doesn’t even have anything to do with the name of this place.”

“So not the point,” Dean replied as he flicked through the brochures. “Right, obviously we have to do the studio tour. You wanna do that tomorrow?”

Sam shrugged.

“Come on, Sammy, we’re on vacation for once in our lives! What do you want to do?”

“I’m tired, Dean,” Sam sighed and flopped down onto the end of the bed to illustrate his point. “I want to sleep.”

“We can do that,” Dean agreed. “But we’re here for a week so we’ve got plenty of time to do other stuff. Come on, it’ll be fun. You do remember what fun is, don’t you?”

“Not really,” Sam replied softly. “And I don’t really feel like doing anything fun right now, okay?”

“Yeah, well, that just means you should,” Dean shot back. “Get some sleep now but tomorrow we’re going to do the studio tour. I guarantee you’ll be smiling by the end of it.”

“Whatever.”

Sam kicked off his shoes and shuffled up the bed until his head was on the pillow. He rolled onto his side so that his back was to Dean and fell still. That was his way of saying that the conversation was over.

Dean would let him have this one. Tomorrow their vacation started for real. 

* * *

He woke up early the next morning and made sure the alarm was switched off before he went out to get some breakfast. Sam didn’t even stir when Dean got up, showered and dressed and he wondered how long it had been since Sam last slept properly.

There was a diner just down the road from the motel and Dean made sure to get something healthy for Sam and even made a mental note not to give him a hard time about the lack of grease on his meal.

The studio tours didn’t start until ten so he figured they could have an easy morning before heading out. It wasn’t often they had the luxury of not being in a rush to get someplace.

“You ever met anyone famous?” he asked the kid behind the counter while he waited for his food. He couldn’t have been much older than sixteen and the grease from the fried food had given him a pretty impressive set of pimples.

“Sure,” the kid drawled, “Tom Cruise comes in here every morning to try our delicious pancakes.”

Normally Dean would have made a smartass comment right back but today was different. Today he was on vacation, he was in a good mood and he wasn’t going to let a kid in the middle of puberty get in the way of that. Instead he just grinned, took his order and headed back to the car.

Sam was in the shower when Dean got back to their room, his bed made neatly while Dean’s was still in a rumpled mess.

“Breakfast,” he called when he heard the water shut off and a few minutes later Sam came out in a cloud of steam with his hair still wet.

He raised an eyebrow when Dean presented him with a fruit salad and a coffee.

“What?” Dean asked. “I got you healthy crap and you don’t want it?” 

“No, it’s not that,” Sam replied as he sat down and started eating. “Just. . . thanks.”

This was about the time Dean would normally watch cartoons but he knew Sam hated that so he left the TV off and they ate in silence.

“So, I think I might have found us a job,” Sam said after a few minutes. He pushed the newspaper over to Dean and pointed to an article he’d circled. 

Dean didn’t even read it.

“Dude, no. We’re on vacation. We’re not working. A few days off and then we can go and hunt whatever the hell you want but we’re not doing any of that today.”

“Dean, someone died. More people could die if we don’t look into this. The last thing I want is more people to die because of me.”

He’d been avoiding this conversation since they’d left San Francisco but enough was enough. He pushed the newspaper back across the table. “What happened to Madison wasn’t your fault. There was no way you could have saved her. Come on, we’ve been through hell this year. We need a break. Just a few days.”

“No, we need to work,” Sam replied. “Please, Dean. You want me to stop thinking about Madison? This will help. Besides, you didn’t look to see where we’re going to hunt.”

Dean let out a resigned sigh and pulled the paper back towards him, eyes scanning the page.

_Fiction became reality yesterday when CW actress Mischa Barton made a shocking discovery while filming her latest movie ‘Over Her Dead Body’. Reports are circulating that one of the members of the crew was found dead, although details are sketchy at this point and a statement has yet to be given on the nature of the death._

_The movie also stars former Roswell actress Sarah Michelle Gellar._

“Are you kidding me?”

Sam shook his head. “Nope.”

“Really, Sam? We’re working based on some hack rag that doesn’t even know which show Sarah Michelle Gellar starred in?”

“We’ve worked off less before this,” Sam shrugged. “Come on, you said you wanted to go to Hollywood and now all of a sudden you don’t?”

“Can we at least take the tour first?”

Sam sighed wearily. “Sure.”

“Awesome!”

* * *

They were first in line when they got to the studio after breakfast, a good thirty minutes before the place opened. Sam sighed and glanced down at his watch. “Seriously?”

Dean shrugged and picked up a map and a flier that listed some information about the places they’d be seeing on the tour. He handed the map to Sam, figuring he’d find something to geek about if he looked at it for long enough.

“Hey, once the tour is over we can have lunch in Arnold’s from Happy Days,” Dean said as he read the flier.

Sam chuckled. “I still remember when we were kids and you used to wear Dad’s leather jacket when he was home between jobs so you could pretend to be Fonzie.”

Dean nodded. “Fonzie was the man.” 

“Really? You didn’t think it was kind of creepy that he hung out with a bunch of kids all the time?”

Dean paused for a second while he thought about it. “Man, you take the fun out of everything!”

The doors opened and Dean dragged Sam inside to they could buy their tickets. Normally he would use one of their many fake credit cards but this time he paid cash. It was weird, but he felt like he wanted to give something back to the thing he loved most besides his family and his car. 

“The tour starts in ten minutes,” Dean said once he’d paid, ignoring the look on Sam’s face as he parted with a load of their scarce cash. “Want anything from the store before we go?”

“Uh. . .no, I’m good.”

They walked slowly over to where the carts were lined up for the tour. Dean got into the first one and sat up front so he had the best view.

“You look like a kid in a candy store,” Sam said as he took a seat beside his brother.

“And you don’t,” Dean shot back. “Come on, Sam. Aren’t you even a little bit excited?”

“Not really.”

Dean rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he wondered how he and Sam were actually related and he doubted it would be the last. He’d been sure this would be just the thing Sam needed to take his mind off everything, but as the cart started to move he could see his brother going through the notes he’d made about the case and not paying any attention to the commentary. 

He elbowed Sam in the ribs. “Did you hear that? They filmed Friday the 13th here.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Come on, the job can at least wait until the tour is over.”

Sam sighed and put his notes back into his jacket pocket. “Okay, fine, I’m listening. Are you happy now?”

They turned a corner and the cart slowed down to a crawl as the tour guide continued. “Over here on stage twelve some notable horror movies were filmed including My Bloody Valentine, Devour and House of Wax.” 

Dean snorted. “Those movies sucked.”

“Okay, I’m done.”

Sam climbed out of the cart before Dean could stop him so of course he had to follow.

“Dude, what the hell? You don’t want to finish the tour?”

Sam stopped dead and turned back to face Dean, eyes bright with annoyance. “No, I don’t. I didn’t want to come here, Dean, and I didn’t want to take the tour. I want to work so can you please just let me do that?”

“Okay, okay. You want to work, then we’ll work. Where’s this set we’re going to?”

Sam sighed with relief. “Stage nine. It’s this way.”

“Let’s go then.”

As they walked along, Dean lost himself in everything that was going on around them. This place was too awesome. They could run into one of his favorite movie or TV stars at any moment.

“Hey, Sam, if you could meet any famous actor while you were here who would it be?”

Sam shrugged. “I dunno. Someone like Meryl Streep maybe?”

“Yeah, she’s still pretty hot,” Dean agreed.

“She’s a brilliant actress, Dean. She’s been nominated for the Best Actress Oscar more times than anyone else.” 

Dean sighed. “Yeah, you would pick someone for a nerdy reason like that.”

“Yeah, well who would you choose?” Sam asked as he glanced back down at the map to see which way they should go.

“I can’t answer that! That’s like asking me to choose a favorite flavor of pie!”

“And you call me a freak,” Sam muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Dean grinned. “So what’s this movie about anyway? Is it something cool? Are we gonna actually meet Sarah Michelle Gellar? Man, Buffy was hot.”

“Buffy would kick your ass into next week,” Sam replied as he pulled out his notes and started flicking through them. “I dunno, man, the movie sounds pretty lame.”

“You know the best thing about horror movies, though,” Dean said as they turned another corner and found themselves outside stage nine. “The hot chicks always get down to at least their underwear before they bite it. It’s practically porn on the big screen.”

“Classy, Dean, really classy.”

“Just telling it like it is, dude. Come on, let’s go inside.”

* * *

As soon as they were through the doors they found themselves caught up in a hive of activity as various people bustled past them carrying equipment that Dean couldn’t even put a name to. In the center of it all the set had been made up to look like an apartment, complete with blood-spattered walls.

Dean grinned. “This is awesome!”

“I don’t get why you’re so excited about that,” Sam replied as he slipped his EMF reader out of his pocket and tried to discreetly take a reading. “We see haunted apartments all the time. It’s not exciting. It’s not even real.”

“But that’s what makes it so awesome. Haven’t you ever wondered how movies are made?”

Dean all but bounced up and down on the balls of his feet as he tried to take it all in. The cameras, the lights; it was all much bigger and brighter than he’d imagined and that just made it more exciting. His eyes scanned the room, trying to spot any famous actors, but from the looks of things they were setting up a scene so the only people around were the crew.

“We should take a look around,” Sam said in what Dean liked to refer to as his business voice. His brother really could sap the fun out of everything, but in this case taking a look around was exactly what he wanted to do.

“Let’s go,” he said with a nod of his head, trying to at least give the impression that he was as focused on the job as Sam was.

They barely made it five paces before a hand hooked around Dean’s arm and he sighed as he realized they’d been busted.

“I need you to take this over to Amber on camera four.”

Dean blinked in surprise. It wasn’t a security guard who had hold of him; it was a flustered looking young guy who was in the process of trying to shove a small box into Dean’s hands.

“Are you even listening to me?” the guy snapped. “Great, I had to find the PA who’s a total moron. Amber. Camera four. Go. Now.”

“We’ll get right on that,” Sam assured him but as soon as the box was out of his hands and in Dean’s he walked away without even listening, yelling into his headset as he moved off.

“What the hell?” Dean murmured as he turned the box over in his hands.

“Look, they obviously think we work here. That’s good. Means we can move around without people asking too many questions,” Sam said.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, I get that but how the hell do I find Amber and camera four?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Sam shrugged. “I’m going to see if I can get any readings from the place where they found the body. I’ll come and find you when I’m done.”

Well, Dean certainly wasn’t going to complain about being given free rein to poke around a movie set. All he needed to do was ditch the stupid box he was carrying.

“Excuse me,” he said, catching the attention of the first person who walked past him. “I’m supposed to take this to Amber at camera four but. . .well, it’s my first day and I don’t really know where I’m going.”

He followed the pointed finger he got in response and soon found himself standing in front of a woman who looked like her camera had done something to offend her.

“Finally,” she sighed when she spotted Dean or, more accurately, when she spotted what was in his hands. “I’ve been waiting for this for an hour.”

She took the box from him, opened it and pulled out a lens that she started to attach to her camera.

“You new here?” she asked over her shoulder.

Dean nodded. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m pretty good at remembering faces. You got a name?”

“Dean.”

She moved back around to the rear of the camera and stuck out her hand. When Dean shook it he was impressed by her firm grip. 

“This your first PA gig?” Amber asked.

“Yeah, but I learn fast.”

It wasn’t a lie. He’d been conning people since he was a kid, and part of a good con was being able to learn fast and adapt to what was going on around you. His dad had taught him that so long as you believe you can do something, more often than not most people around you will assume you can do it too.

Amber looked him up and down, like she could get a measure of him just from the way he stood, and then she smiled.

“I think you’ll do okay for yourself, kid. Just don’t go getting all star struck around the actors. It tends to piss them off.”

“Duly noted,” Dean said with a salute.

“You.”

Dean found himself pulled away from Amber but she barely noticed and was already back to tweaking the settings on her camera.

The guy who’d pulled Dean away looked just as flustered as the one who’d given him the lens to deliver, and Dean found himself wondering how the hell there weren’t people dropping dead from heart attacks all over the place.

“I need you to go and get Misha something to eat from Craft. Part of his costume has gone missing and we’re trying to sort something out but we don’t have time for a lunch break. Just get some food and take it to Wardrobe.” 

Dean nodded, the instinct to obey orders kicking in like a reflex. “Got it.” 

He had no idea how to get to Craft or where Wardrobe was, but he’d figure it out. He started to walk and a couple of minutes later Sam caught up to him.  
“The place is clean. I don’t know what we’re dealing with here, Dean, but it doesn’t look like a haunting. Where are you going?”

“Gotta pick up lunch for that Mischa chick. Apparently she’s having some sort of wardrobe malfunction. I’m hoping it’s the kind that involves nudity.”

He grinned and Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, before you start trying to get into her panties could you at least ask her some questions that don’t involve how bendy she is? She’s the one who found the body.”

“You take the fun out of everything,” Dean grumbled. “Fine, I’ll poke around and ask her some questions before I poke-“

Sam raised his hand. “For the sake of my sanity, do not finish that sentence.”

“Prude.”

“Whatever.” Sam sighed. “Just see if you can find out anything else. I managed to dig up a bit of info on the dead guy. His name was Simon Bennett and he was one of the writers. I asked around a bit but no one seemed to have anything against him. Apparently he was the main reason the movie was getting made in the first place. So talk to Mischa and I’ll go and talk to the cops while you’re. . .busy. See if they can tell us anything else.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Take your time, Sammy. I might be a while.”

Sam shook his head and walked off towards the exit, leaving Dean to tackle what was most definitely the best part of their job.

He had no idea what Mischa would want to eat. Probably just a carrot stick or something if she was like most actresses, but he loaded the plate with a bit of everything when he eventually found craft, just in case. The guy serving the food gave him directions to Wardrobe and Dean hovered outside for a minute. He actually felt kind of nervous. Hitting on some random chick was one thing but this was a famous actress. He’d have to up his game if he was going to get anywhere with her.

He balanced the plate on one hand and used the other to knock on the door.

No answer.

He waited a moment and knocked again. When there was still no answer he pushed the door open and poked his head inside. “Hello?”

There was soft music coming from a small stereo sitting in one corner of the room, the gentle sound of melodic chanting and guitar strumming floating through the air. Rails of clothing lined the far wall and as Dean moved to set the plate of food down, he almost tripped.

“What the hell?”

The ass poking in his direction was definitely not female, but it sure as hell was hot, especially given that the body it was attached to was currently bent in some position that Dean hadn’t even thought was possible. He really hoped the face was even half as hot as the body. 

“Oh, hey,” a muffled voice came from somewhere underneath. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

Dean could only watch with rapt attention as the guy slowly unfolded himself and sat on the floor with his legs crossed as he let out a few deep breaths.

Dean’s eyes widened. He knew this guy!

He was wearing a pair of blue sweatpants and a salmon colored t-shirt that was dark with sweat in places. Dean absolutely wasn’t thinking about the time he jerked off after watching Stonehenge Apocalypse. He wasn’t blind, the movie had sucked, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the hot guy with the huge blue eyes who got to save the world.

And now said hot guy was sitting in front of him, looking up at him with said huge blue eyes. Dean was half hard already.

Misha fucking Collins.

“Hello,” Misha said serenely as Dean continued to stare. “Is that for me?”

He nodded his head towards the plate that Dean had set down on the table next to the stereo.

“Oh, right, yeah.” Dean snapped out of his stupor and picked up the plate to hand it to Misha. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I got a bit of everything.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Misha took a bite of one of the sandwiches and then eased himself to his feet, setting the plate back on the table and studying Dean with a curious gaze.

“You’re new. I’m Misha.” He extended his hand and for a moment all Dean could do was stare at it like it was some sort of weird foreign object.

“Are you okay?” Misha flashed him an amused smile and Dean realized he was staring. Again. Like some sort of star struck teenager. He remembered Amber’s words and quickly flashed Misha a grin.

“Sorry It’s just I was expecting-“

“Mischa Barton?” Misha asked. “Yeah, it’s surprising how often we get mixed up. There’s an easy way to distinguish us, though. I’m the one who wears bonnets and knits.”

Misha winked and all Dean could do was stand there and stare at him. Again.

He could feel a blush staining his cheeks and he couldn’t look Misha directly in the eyes as he finally took his hand and shook it. “I’m. . .uh. . .Dean.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean. How are they treating you on set? Nothing too traumatic, I hope.”

Dean smiled. “No, it’s been good actually. Kind of exciting. Except, you know, I heard there’s been some weird stuff going on. Is it true someone died?”

The smile fell from Misha’s face and the light faded from his eyes a little. It made Dean feel kind of cold and he had to resist the urge to tug his jacket tighter around himself.

“Yeah,” Misha said softly. “I found him. It was pretty fucked up.”

“Do you. . .” Dean trailed off. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay. It kind of helps, actually. It was just weird, you know, and I’ve seen a lot of weird shit. I found him lying right where I’m supposed to find the body of my lover in the movie. He was just lying there and he was so white. His throat was a mess but there was no blood. The cops think he was killed somewhere else and then brought here.”

“Did you know him?” Dean asked.

Misha shook his head. “Not really. He was one of the guys hired to make alterations to the script. I saw him around but we never really talked. He mostly talked to the director and the producers. Apparently the original script was an even bigger turd than it is now. I never saw the first draft but Simon was the only reason the movie was greenlit in the first place.”

It sounded weird, sure, but Dean was starting to wonder if this was even their kind of job. Could just be a resident psycho. LA was full of nutcases. More than a lot of other places.

“Then there was the note,” Misha continued and he looked genuinely freaked out now. “Whoever did it left a note on the body, written in the guy’s blood and just lying on his chest. Just three words: ‘I’m your inspiration’. That’s pretty fucked up, right?”

Yeah, that was definitely weird but still nothing to suggest it wasn’t just a regular whacko.

“You attract a lot of crazies in this industry, I guess.”

Misha shook his head. “No, crazy is sending me thirty pairs of orange underwear in the mail. This? I don’t even know what the fuck to call this.” 

“I don’t know what to say, dude.”

Dean was just grateful that Misha wasn’t crying and hysterical. He never knew how to handle people like that which was why it usually fell to Sam to do the comforting. But Misha just looked stoic and pensive; his wide eyes the only clue to how scared he really was.

“Hey, you got any place to be?” Misha asked, the fog lifting a little as he smiled at Dean. “I’m going kind of nuts waiting for my costume to show up. At this rate we’ll be shooting the scene with me in my own clothes and there’s only so much random shit I can post to my Twitter while I wait for them to decide what they want to do.”

Dean frowned. “Your what-er?”

Misha grinned. “Take a seat and I’ll show you.”

* * *

Misha’s body was pressed against his as they huddled close together so Dean could see the screen on Misha’s phone while he demonstrated his Twitter thing. He didn’t really get it but, honestly, right now he really didn’t give a shit. He could feel Misha’s breath tickling his neck as he talked. The fact that he didn’t even understand half of what Misha was saying just made it even hotter.

Seriously, this was way better than hanging out with Mischa Barton. 

“I dunno, man,” he finally shrugged. “I’m not really into the whole technology thing. That’s kind of more my brother’s area. I’d rather just kick back with a few beers and Casa Erotica.”

Because, really, what was more normal than beer and porn?

Misha smiled. “Well, you know, there’s not actually that much difference between Twitter and porn.”

“I hate to break it to you, man, but there really is.”

“Think about it like this. When you’re watching porn, how does it make you feel?”

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “What, you want a diagram? How do you think it makes me feel?”

“You get off on it, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean huffed. “That’s kind of the point.”

“Exactly!” Misha nodded. “You’re having an experience, an intimacy if you will, with two people on screen who don’t even know you exist. The video, Casa Erotica for example, is the facilitator of that relationship. Twitter works in exactly the same way.”

He tapped out a message and showed it to Dean.

_I’m having a conversation about Twitter & how it serves as a parasocial crutch akin to porn. But I’m arguing that porn is more satisfying._

“So, what, that’s it?” Dean asked with a frown. “You just use this thing to tell people what you’re doing?”

Misha shrugged. “Sometimes I read what my minions are doing but it’s mostly stuff like this.”

He tapped another button and handed the phone over to Dean.

_OMG @mishacollins is talking about porn!! Brb fapping_

_I have no idea what @mishacollins is talking about but it sounds hot_

_Please can I marry @mishacollins and his amazing mind right now_

Dean handed the phone back. “I think I’ll stick with the porn.”

Misha was nothing at all like Dean had expected. He’d always delivered a sort of seriousness in his roles so Dean had figured he’d be like that in person too. Instead Misha was grinning at him with a wicked glint in his eyes that reminded Dean of himself as a teenager. 

“But that’s enough about my plans for world domination,” Misha said as he slipped his phone back onto the table behind him. “Tell me about you.”

His eyes fixed on Dean with such intensity that it actually made Dean feel kind of uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to people giving a shit about him really, apart from Sam and Bobby of course.

“Did you always want to be a PA?”

Misha was leaning forward in his seat, looking genuinely interested, as though the words Dean was about to speak were the most important things in the world.

Dean shifted. “I. . .uh. . .I dunno. I guess not. I’ve always loved movies but I kind of got into the family business because of my dad. This is just a temporary gig while I figure out what me and my brother are going to do next.”

Misha nodded his head. “What’s the family business?”

Shit.

No matter how many times Dean got asked that, there was never a right answer. Even though he’d been raised never to talk about hunting with anyone outside of the trade, he always felt like he was disrespecting his dad’s memory by lying about what they did. Misha was looking at him, all sincere and open with his ridiculously huge blue eyes, and it made Dean want to spew out all of his family’s deep and messed up history.

Luckily for him, at that moment the door burst open and three nervous looking wardrobe assistants bustled in followed by the guy who had asked Dean to get Misha some food earlier.

“Okay, we’re making progress. We’ve found everything but the jacket. I swear I’m going to kill someone.”

“Interesting choice of words given what happened to Simon,” Misha replied dryly.

Wardrobe guy’s cheeks flushed red. “Sorry, poor choice of words, but I just don’t understand where the hell it’s gone.”

His eyes fell on Dean. “What are you still doing here? I’m pretty sure you have more important things to do than harass the star of our movie.”

“It’s fine,” Misha said. “I asked him to stay. Now you were saying something about a missing jacket?”

The guy wasn’t listening to Misha, though; he was eyeing Dean like a hungry dog that had just found its next meal.

“Take off your jacket.” 

Dean blinked. “What?”

“Your jacket. Take it off.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have time for questions! Take it off or you’re fired!”

“Dave,” Misha said lowly, the warning clear in his voice.

The last thing Dean needed right now was to get fired from his fake job. It would make working the case difficult and seeing Misha again pretty much impossible so he shrugged off his jacket, frowning when Dave yanked it out of his hands and looked it over.

“This is perfect,” he sighed happily. “It’s pretty much an exact match.”

He handed the jacket to Misha. “Try this on.”

Misha ignored him and focused his attention on Dean. “Are you okay with this? It’s fine if you’re not. I promise you won’t lose your job.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s fine. Knock yourself out.”

Misha got to his feet and pulled the jacket on, flashing Dean a smirk as he took a none too subtle sniff at the collar. It left Dean feeling like he was standing naked in the middle of the room while the wardrobe girls circled Misha and tugged at various parts of the jacket.

“It’s a little big,” one of the girls finally announced. “But we can fix that with some minor adjustments.”

“Hey,” Dean protested.

“Relax,” Dave said with a wave of his hand. “We’ll pay you for the jacket. How much did it cost? Fifty bucks?”

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again. Now was probably not the time to mention he’d stolen the jacket while he’d been on a job a few months ago when they were low on cash.

“Fine,” Dave said when he caught the look on Dean’s face and he pressed a wad of bills into his hand. “This should more than cover it.”

Dean glanced down. The money in his hand was more than enough to cover the cash he’d spent to get him and Sam into the studio that morning, and more than enough to cover the cost of a new jacket.

He looked over at Misha and grinned. “It looks better on you anyway.”

Dave smiled for the first time since Dean had met him as the girls put some pins in the jacket to mark the adjustments.

“Excellent. Now that we’ve got that settled, you can get out.”

“Hold on a second,” Misha called out. “Dean, have you got anything important you need to be doing right now?”

Apart from meeting up with Sam to find out if there were any potential dead people haunting the set, then really not.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s got plenty to be doing,” Dave said dismissively as one of the girls scribbled down some measurements in a notebook.

Misha and Dean both ignored him.

“Not right now,” Dean said with a grin. “You want me for something?”

“Oh, I definitely want you,” Misha replied with a leer that had Dean more than a little startled. This was unexpected, to say the least, but not exactly unwelcome.

Dave flushed red and bustled out of the room, quickly followed by his assistants.

Dean hovered in the doorway and watched them leave before turning back to Misha.

“So. . .” Dean began awkwardly. He was so much better at this sort of thing with chicks, or when he was drunk.

“So,” Misha agreed with a smile and picked up the plate of food Dean had brought in earlier. “You hungry?”

“Uh. . .” Okay, now Dean had no idea what the hell was going on. One minute he was sure he was about to get laid and now Misha was talking about food. “No thanks, I’m good.”

“I’m sure you are,” Misha replied with that smirk back in place. “Come on, sit down and keep me company awhile. You need to try these miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches, though.” 

Confused though he was, Dean accepted one and popped it into his mouth.

“Oh, my god!”

Misha smiled. “Good, right?”

Good didn’t even begin to cover it. Dean was pretty sure he was only a few steps away from coming in his pants, it tasted so amazing.

“It’s delicious.”

He took another one and almost choked when Misha started licking his fingers clean. Holy shit, it was like watching live porn, or live foreplay at least.

There was no way in hell Misha didn’t know what he was doing. He slid one finger in, sucking it clean with obscene slurping noises and his eyes closed in what looked like rapturous pleasure. Dean was hard just watching him, imagining those lips around his cock and those fingers on his body. 

This was seriously messed up. He had nothing against fucking guys per se, but he usually limited himself to quick blowjobs in the side alley of a bar if he’d struck out on scoring with any chicks.

This was different and it kind of scared the hell out of him.

“So you never did tell me what your family business was,” Misha said, having decided now that his fingers were sufficiently clean, and just like that the moment was broken.

Dean shrugged. “It’s kind of complicated. My dad used to be a soldier, did some time in ‘Nam but after my mom died all he wanted to do was help people. Keep them safe, you know.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Misha replied.

“It got him killed.”

It still hurt Dean to talk about it. No matter what happened and no matter how much time passed, nothing was ever going to let him forget that his dad died to keep him alive. He had no idea why he was talking about it now, especially with some guy that he’d only just met, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“I’m sorry,” Misha said with a sincere smile.

Dean shrugged. “Thanks. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, though. It wasn’t your fault.”

_It was mine._

“That doesn’t stop me from being sorry for the pain you’re in. You were obviously very close to your dad.” He shook his head. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe another time,” Dean said with an appreciative smile. “When there’s a lot more booze involved.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that,” Misha replied and the smile he flashed Dean had him half convinced that talking about anything with this guy would solve all of his problems.

Dean got to his feet. “I should probably go. I was supposed to meet my brother a while back and I’m sure you’ve got more important things to be doing than talking to me.”

“It was my pleasure,” Misha replied. “Thanks for the lunch, and I’ll hold you to that drink.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Dean grinned and as he left the room he doubted he would ever see Misha Collins again.

Pity.

* * *

“I have got no idea what the hell is going on,” Sam said when Dean finally found him. “There’s been a couple of accidental deaths over the years but nothing that matches the M.O. of whatever killed the dead guy Misha found.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe this isn’t our sort of case.”

“Dean, a thirty year old guy gets his throat ripped open and his body turns up in the middle of a movie set with a note left on his chest. That doesn’t strike you as a little bit strange? Come on, man, it’s not like you to be so skeptical.”

“Sam, this is Hollywood. Crazy shit like that happens all the time. You got anything to even hint that this wasn’t just some psycho?”

Sam opened his mouth to argue but before any words could leave his lips a pale and wild-eyed PA burst into the room and skidded to a halt in front of them.

“Oh, my god! There you are!”

Dean glanced at Sam, who shrugged and looked just as confused as he felt.

“Who, me?”

“Yeah, you’re Dean, right?”

“Yeah. . .”

The PA nodded but didn’t look any less freaked out. “You need to come with me, right now.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked in that soothing voice that Dean had never quite been able to master. It was why Dean always left his brother to deal with the hysterical people when they were working. He was just better at it.

“I. . .I can’t. . .something’s happened, okay? I can’t talk about it but Misha wants to see you.”

“Me?” Dean repeated. “Why?”

“I don’t question the actors, man, I just do what I’m told. He asked me to find you so I found you. He’s trying not to show it but he’s really freaked out, man. We all are.”

“You should go,” Sam said with his ‘go and investigate’ look. “I’ll call you later.”

Dean nodded and as soon as he did the PA grabbed hold of his arm and practically dragged him through the set. 

Whatever it was that had happened, it was big. The place was crawling with cops and as they got outside Dean spotted an ambulance pulling up.

“Hey, kid, just hold on a second,” he said, digging in his feet and bringing them both to a stop. “Why don’t you tell me what the hell has happened.”

The kid, and he was a kid, couldn’t have been any older than eighteen at most, turned back to face Dean. He looked sick and scared and for a second Dean thought he was going to throw up all over his shoes.

“It’s Dave,” he said after swallowing hard. “The wardrobe manager. He’s dead.”

Now Dean’s interest was piqued. One dead guy in Hollywood could be anything, but two in as many days meant there was either an incredibly efficient serial killer on the loose or this was their kind of job.

“Misha found him. He. . .” the kid ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it spiked in all directions. “It was just like what happened with Simon. No one can explain it.”

Dean was starting to have a few ideas of what they might be dealing with now but he’d need to get Sam to check into the details. First of all, he needed to talk to Misha.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The kid showed him as far as Misha’s trailer and then left him to go inside alone.

The trailer was mostly dark save for one lamp that was on at the far end. Misha was sprawled on the couch, a thickly rolled cigarette dangling loosely from one hand. The air was thick and heavy with smoke and Dean only needed to breathe in once to know that what Misha was smoking wasn’t just tobacco.

“You okay?” he asked as he moved over to the couch and took a seat by Misha’s feet. Misha blinked at him, eyes glazed and face pale. He was trying to take the edge off and it clearly wasn’t working. 

“No, I don’t think I am,” Misha replied. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on but the only reason I’m not in jail is because this time there was a note on the body that was actually addressed to me.”

Dean had no idea what to say. His gut told him this was something supernatural but that was all he had to go on so far. There was no proof that this wasn’t just some crazed stalker trying to get Misha’s attention.

“What did the note say?” It was all he could think to ask. Maybe if they could get some more clues he could figure out what the hell it was they were supposed to be hunting.

Misha sighed and closed his eyes. “No need to thank me, Misha. My reward is seeing the great things you do every day.”

This was the part of the job that Dean really hated. He couldn’t explain to Misha that it was possibly some kind of monster, and he sure as hell couldn’t get the cops involved in what he was doing. All he could do was find Sam, try to find out what the hell this thing was and salt and burn the fucker before anyone else turned up dead.

“I thought we could have those drinks,” Misha said, gesturing at the large bottle of whisky that sat unopened on the table. “I could really use it right now.”

Dean shook his head. “How about we save it for when you’re not half-baked. I know you’re freaking out but, believe me, getting wasted isn’t going to help.”

He still remembered Sam’s drunken pleas for Dean to kill him. 

Misha propped himself up on his elbows and peered at Dean though the haze. “How did you cope? When you lost your father?”

“Honestly?” Dean asked. “I didn’t. I smashed the shit out of my car, drank myself into oblivion and refused to talk to my brother who’s the only family I have left. It wasn’t exactly my finest moment.”

Misha nodded his head. “But it got better? In the end?”

“I don’t think it’ll ever be better,” Dean replied softly.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Misha mused, mostly to himself.

“What?”

Misha lurched to his feet and almost fell into Dean when he rose to help him.

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” Dean asked as he wrapped an arm around Misha’s waist to stop him from toppling over.

“I’m going to trash my bike,” Misha said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Dude, what? Why?”

Misha shrugged. “I thought it might help.”

He blinked at Dean, as though he were trying to keep his face in focus, and Dean sighed.

“Okay, come on, I’m taking you home.”

Misha grinned. “I’d been hoping to hear you say that. But let me do this first. I want to. It’s a healthy expression of my feelings of despair.”

“Well, how about you healthily express your despair when you’re not trashed.”

Misha sighed. “Fine, but don’t take me back to my hotel. That place has no soul.”

He wrapped his arms more tightly around Dean and peered up at him with those ridiculously huge blue eyes. If Dean was just a fraction more of an asshole he’d have kissed him right there. Instead he just sighed and helped Misha find his feet again. But it was kind of hard to ignore the way Misha’s arms were wrapped around him, or the warmth of his body pressed against his.

“Fine,” Dean croaked around the lump in his throat. “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” Misha shrugged. “Where are you going?”

* * *

“Dean, why the hell did you bring him here?”

Dean lowered Misha onto the bed where he immediately sprawled out and started to snore softly.

“Someone else has turned up dead,” Dean groaned as he straightened his back. “He was the one who found the body, again. Whatever’s going on here, Sam, he’s involved and I don’t know why.”

Sam frowned and sat back down at his computer. “Same thing as last time.”

“Yeah, exactly the same, and I’m starting to have an idea of what we’re dealing with here.” He glanced over at Misha who was still sleeping deeply but he lowered his voice anyway. “It sounds like a vampire.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Dean, that doesn’t make any sense. Vampires live in hiding most of the time. They’re sure as hell not the sort of creatures to make a big public display like this.”

“I know,” Dean sighed. “The second death happened during the day, which is kind of weird, right? But that’s just what it sounds like. You got any better ideas?”

Sam was already tapping at his computer, brow furrowed in concentration like it always was when there was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Dean figured it would keep him busy for a while, which was what Sam apparently wanted.

His eyes drifted back over to Misha who was still stretched out on the bed, one arm thrown over his face to block out the light. Misha Collins. In his bed. For all the weird shit they saw on a daily basis this had them all beaten. It was like someone had taken one of his wet dreams and turned it into live Technicolor. 

Every few minutes Misha made a soft noise in his sleep and twitched a little. Dean knew firsthand the shitty sorts of dreams that came with passing out under the influence and he sure as hell didn’t envy Misha for what he was experiencing right now.

He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. This close he could see Misha’s eyes quivering beneath their lids, his lips parted as his breath came in small gasps.

For a minute all Dean could do was sit there and watch him until he realized he was acting like a total creep who got their freak on watching other people sleep. 

He reached out a hand, letting it hover over Misha’s shoulder for a minute before he dropped it back down. Misha would probably feel better for just sleeping it off.

“I’m going to get coffee,” he announced as he rose from the bed. The movement caused Misha to let out a small sound and curl in on himself. “You want anything?”

“Coffee sounds good,” Sam replied, eyes still fixed on the computer screen. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if his brother wound up needing glasses by the time he was thirty.

He grabbed his leather jacket from his duffle now that Misha, or rather Misha’s character, was the owner of his other one. Still, Misha had looked pretty damn hot wearing it. Way better than Dean ever had so he figured it was for a good cause. 

The cash was just an added bonus. 

* * *

He’d only been out for a half hour so he was more than a little surprised to find Misha awake, sitting on the end of the bed and talking to Sam who was actually smiling.

“So I told her it had nothing at all to do with what color they were. It was the fact that they were three sizes too small.” 

Dean had no idea what conversation he’d walked in the middle of and he didn’t really care. Sam actually laughed at whatever story Misha was telling and it was the most awesome thing Dean had heard in a long time.

“I brought coffee,” he said, handing a cup to Sam and the other one that was going to be for himself to Misha. He figured Misha probably needed it more than he did. “You still want to take a crowbar to your bike? Because I can run you back to the studio if you want.”

Misha shook his head. “In retrospect, I think trashing someone else’s bike would have been a better idea.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, there’s plenty of dicks at that place who could afford it. You feeling okay now?”

Misha shrugged. “Okay just about covers it.”

“I’m sure the police are doing all they can,” Sam said with a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t put a lot of faith in the authorities, really,” Misha replied as he gulped back his coffee.

A man after Dean’s own heart. He knew there was a reason he liked this guy.

“Well, if you don’t want to go back to your hotel right away you can hang out here. Me and Sammy always get pizza on a Thursday.”

He ignored the look that Sam shot him. They couldn’t research properly while Misha was here, he knew that, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to kick the guy out.

Misha smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

Sam closed his laptop and sighed. “Guess I’m on the food run then, since you just got the coffee.”

“Nah, man, we’ll dial it in. Come on, sit back and relax. You work too hard. You know what, we should go out. Find a bar, have a few beers and some food.”

Finally it looked like he was going to be able to get Sam to enjoy some actual vacation on their vacation. Except Sam shook his head before shooting an embarrassed glance at Misha. “Uh, Dean? We can’t really afford to go out at the moment.”

_Because you blew all our cash on a studio tour_ went unsaid.

Dean waved a dismissive hand. “I got it covered.”

He pulled a roll of money out of his jeans pocket and waved it under Sam’s nose. “Apparently my threads are a much sought after item in Hollywood. Just you wait, Sammy, soon Misha won’t be the only hot actor using my look.”

“What look is that?” Sam snorted. “The ‘I dress like a 1970s deadbeat’ look?” 

Dean glanced down at his rumpled AC/DC shirt and shrugged his shoulders. “Better than the Abercrombie look you’ve got going on there.”

Sam frowned at the same time that Misha grinned. “Well, I’m glad you think I’m hot. The feeling is mutual, I can assure you.”

When Dean saw how uncomfortable Sam looked he couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, Sam. I can’t help being this gorgeous.”

“Whatever,” Sam sighed. “You want me to go out so you guys can. . .you know?”

Dean smirked at Misha. “One day, when he’s grown up, he’ll be able to say fuck without blushing like a girl.

“Fuck you,” Sam shot back. “How does that work for you?”

“That’s my little brother.” Dean patted him on the back. “Come on, let’s go.”

He glanced back at Misha who still sat on the end of the bed, watching them with an amused smile.

“Oh, uh, are you okay hitting a bar? You’re not going to get swamped by crazy fans looking to steal your beer glass so they can take your DNA and clone you?” 

Misha snorted. “I think you overestimate my popularity, Dean. Fans have better things to do than stalk a small-time actor who makes his living doing crappy TV movies.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked incredulously. “Stonehenge Apocalypse was awesome. I’m going to get Sam to watch it as soon as I can get the DVD.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath for the release,” Misha replied with a wry smile. “I think you’re the only person who actually saw that movie. But, hey, I appreciate the audience of one. I’ll go back and tell the network that a hundred percent of the audience liked it.”

Dean chuckled. “You’re kind of weird, you know?”

“It’s been said,” Misha replied. “Shall we go?”

* * *

The bar they found wasn’t too far away from the motel and even though Misha claimed there was no risk of his being recognized, Dean still found them a table in the corner away from everyone else. 

“I got this,” Misha said when Sam and Dean started looking over the menu, instinctively gravitating towards the cheapest things they had. “I owe you for keeping me company tonight.”

Dean shrugged. No way was he ever one to turn down free food, even though he knew it would be polite to refuse. “Okay, thanks but at least let me buy you a beer.”

“Deal.”

The food wasn’t bad. Just the right side of too greasy and Dean dug into his burger while Sam picked a little more delicately at his nachos.

“So,” Misha said as they ate. “How long have you guys been in Hollywood?”

“Not that long,” Sam replied, and Dean knew the lies would soon fall easily from his brother’s tongue. They made up shit like this every day but this was the first time Dean actually felt kind of bad about it. Misha was a decent guy and he sure as hell talked straight. Dean wished he could do the same. 

“Yeah, we just came here on vacation,” Dean added, figuring he may as well mix in some truth with the lies. “I just kind of fell into the PA gig but it’s pretty awesome.”

“Dean loves movies,” Sam said almost apologetically. “Always has, but not like your Oscar winning types of movies and more like the Ed Wood types.”

Dean shrugged. “Nothing wrong with my taste in movies. I just like them. Our dad was away a lot when we were growing up so I used to sit up and watch them. I dunno, they kind of comforted me I guess.”

“I’m not sure what it says about you that you found monster movies comforting as a child,” Misha replied, but the look Sam shot him told Dean that his brother knew exactly what he was talking about.

On-screen monsters were safe, a way to escape from the reality of what was actually out there.

“What can I say?” Dean replied with shrug. “I’m a complex guy.”

“I’m starting to see that. You know, you never told me what it is you guys do. I know PA wasn’t your first career choice, Dean. You mentioned something about a family business?”

Sam shot Dean a look, which really wasn’t needed. Despite what had happened earlier when he’d talked about his dad, Dean wasn’t about to start shooting off his mouth about the hunting lifestyle in the middle of a crowded bar.

Misha’s gaze fixed firmly on Dean and it was starting to give him that weird, uncomfortable feeling again. There was something about the way Misha looked at him that was really kind of unsettling. Like he was looking right inside Dean and could immediately tell whether he was lying.

“I’m a mechanic, same as my dad was,” Dean replied smoothly. “Sam here is a lawyer in training.”

Again, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Dean always imagined himself working with cars if their lives had been different, and that had been their dad’s job before he got into the hunting game. Dean was also in no doubt that Sam would have made it as a hotshot lawyer if Jess hadn’t been killed.

Misha’s gaze lingered; Dean didn’t move a muscle and instead looked right back at him. Years of conning made him know all the tells when it came to lying. 

Finally Misha smiled and nodded, turning his attention to Sam. “What area of law are you specializing in? I considered it for a while before I got into acting.”

“I’m kind of interested in personal injury,” Sam replied, and Dean was almost surprised. They’d never really talked about the whole law school thing after Jessica had died and even now Dean had no idea what Sam had wanted to do with his life beyond ‘hotshot lawyer’. 

“I wanted to help out the regular guy, you know,” Sam continued. “There’s all these huge corporations out there who hide behind their money and I just wanted to do something about that.”

Misha nodded. “I was more interested in environmental law myself.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “That would have been my second choice!”

Dean sat back and listened as Sam started chatting enthusiastically about the latest changes to the laws on CO2 emissions and Misha seemed to be genuinely interested. The guy really wasn’t what Dean had expected at all. He’d kind of figured Misha would be vapid like most actors, but he was keeping up with Sam’s legal speak easily and offering his own opinions on the matter.

This was just what Sam needed. A little dose of normality after all the shit that had been tossed at him this year. It was almost like looking at a totally different person. Sam was relaxed and smiling and it made Dean want to do something for Misha for giving this to his brother. 

He noticed, with an amused smile, that Sam was so caught up in the conversation that he didn’t pay any attention to the fact that Misha kept refilling his glass every time it got even close to being empty. The more Sam drank the more animated he became, gesturing excitedly with his hands as he explained his point.

It wouldn’t last. Dean knew that tomorrow Sam would be back to his usual pensive and brooding self but at least for now he seemed to be enjoying himself.

When the conversation finally slowed down, Sam lurched to his feet and stumbled slightly before grinning. “Bathroom. Back in a minute.”

Dean sighed. He could tell Sam was well on his way to being wasted and part of him thought it would do the kid some good, even after their last conversation after Sam had made a date with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. That being said, he really didn’t want to have to carry his brother’s drunken ass back to the motel.

Misha sat back in his chair, eyeing Dean with curiosity, like he was trying to figure him out. Dean smirked. Plenty of people had tried in the past but he was an expert at not letting people in, even Sam when it suited him.

Misha saw Dean’s smirk and simply smiled, an unspoken challenge being set between them.

The moment was shattered by Sam collapsing back into his seat with a happy sigh.

“Beer is awesome,” he beamed.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “It is.”

He briefly considered finding a girl for Sam to hook up with while he was drunk and happy like this. That way Sam would be occupied while he and Misha had some fun of their own. Unfortunately he knew that Sam would never go for it, not even while his guard was down like it was now. Which meant that Dean wasn’t going to see any action either. No way could he leave Sam when he wasn’t in a fit state to defend himself if he needed to.

Damnit.

“You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” Misha asked, apparently catching the look on Dean’s face. “The night is still young.”

“Yeah,” Sam added. “C’mon, Dean. It’s still early.”

Well, there was no way in hell Dean was going to be the one who called it an early night before they all got wasted.

“I’ll get the beer.”

* * *

“Are you sure he’s not going to puke in my cab?”

The taxi driver eyed Sam suspiciously where he sat slumped against Dean in the back seat while Misha rode up front.

“He’s fine,” Misha said smoothly and clearly there was something about the way he said it because the driver didn’t say anything further, just grunted and headed back in the direction of the motel.

When they arrived, Misha paid the driver and then came around to help Dean unload Sam from the car.

“Thanks, man,” Dean groaned as his knees buckled underneath Sam’s weight. “I probably should have cut him off an hour ago.”

They stumbled towards the room and Dean kept one arm wrapped around Sam while he used the other to unlock the door.

“Come on, Sammy, help us out here,” he grunted as they staggered inside and eventually got him deposited on the bed.

“Kill me,” Sam mumbled as Dean pulled his boots off and Misha chuckled softly. 

“Looks like he’s already anticipating the killer hangover in the morning.”

Dean didn’t reply. Instead he set Sam’s boots down neatly at the foot of the bed so he wouldn’t trip over them if he got up for the bathroom in the night. Then he stood up and stretched.

“You wanna crash here tonight? I’m probably not going to sleep much anyway.”

He didn’t sleep well on a normal night, and had no problem giving up his bed for the few hours that were left before sunrise. 

Misha shrugged. “I’m good actually.”

Sam let out another murmur under his breath and curled in on himself.

“Hey, thanks for tonight,” Dean said as they both turned around to look at Sam. “He. . .well, it hasn’t been an easy few months for him.”

“It sounds like you’ve both been through a rough time,” Misha replied and laid a hand on Dean’s arm. “I know it doesn’t mean a lot coming from a guy you barely know, but it will get better, I promise.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I’m not so sure. Bad shit seems to follow us around.”

He could feel the heat from Misha’s hand seeping through his shirt, sending the warmth spreading through him. Man, he really needed to get laid soon. He glanced over at Sam who was out cold. No reason why they couldn’t. . .

He almost shivered when Misha withdrew his hand and flashed him a soft smile. “I guess what matters is how you deal with the bad shit when it comes your way.”

Dean snorted. “What, you mean like get high and trash my stuff?”

“A momentary glitch,” Misha shrugged. “I just wish I knew who the hell was doing this. Why are they interested in me?”

Great, the last thing Dean needed was Misha poking around and getting in the way while he and Sam hunted whatever the hell this thing was.

“Look,” he said in what he hoped was Sam’s reassuring voice. “This guy is obviously some whack-job and you don’t want to go getting yourself killed, right? Let the cops handle it.”

_Or us._

“But it’s got to be someone I know, right?” Misha shot back. “And it’s got to be someone who has access to the set. People can’t just walk in off the street.”

Dean begged to differ.

“I’m pretty good at reading people,” Misha continued. “All I need to do is start talking to them.”

“Okay, say you’re right,” Dean sighed. “Say it’s someone who works on the set. How many people are in the cast and crew? Hundreds. You’re just going to talk to them all, hope that someone acts suspiciously and that the cops will buy that as evidence?”

“I’ll think of something,” Misha replied.

Before Dean could think of any other way of talking sense into him, Misha pulled out his phone and called for a cab. Damnit, there was a reason Sam usually handled this sort of thing.

“I’m going to go and wait outside,” Misha said. “I need some air and you need to get some sleep. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay?”

“Great,” Dean muttered. “Just great.”

He collapsed onto his bed, trying to ignore the snoring that was coming from his brother. Not that it really made much difference. He knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep.

* * *

He woke up to the sound of Sam groaning in the bathroom and he couldn’t stop the grin from spreading over his face.

“Hey, Sam, you want some bacon for breakfast?”

“Die,” Sam groaned, followed quickly by the sound of retching.

Dean wasn’t totally heartless and he found some Tylenol in the bottom of his bag and wandered into the bathroom to fill a glass with some water.

“Here,” he said, handing the pills and the water to Sam. 

Sam nodded gratefully and knocked the pills back, using half the water to swallow them and the other half to rinse his mouth out.

“For the record, I hate your new friend.”

“He’s not my friend, he’s our case,” Dean replied although the words sounded flat and half-hearted even to him. “And you need to get up because he’s decided to investigate this thing himself.”

Sam groaned again. “He’s going to get himself killed. We don’t even know what we’re dealing with yet.”

“All the more reason to get moving.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m coming.”

* * *

Misha was in the middle of shooting a scene when they arrived on set and Dean had to take a moment to watch him. The movie was kind of lame, and not the sort of lame that Dean loved. Guy moves into an apartment that’s haunted by a chick who doesn’t realize she’s dead and falls in love with him, and then in true horror movie style she goes nuts and starts killing everyone he knows in a jealous rage. 

Still, even with the lame plot Misha was nailing the scene. It was like Dean was watching a totally different person. Everything about Misha was different, his mannerisms, facial expression, posture, even his voice.

“Cut!” the director called and just like that, with a snap, he was Misha again.

“Come on,” Sam said with a tug of Dean’s arm. “We need to go and look at where the body was found.”

Dean nodded his head, eyes still on Misha who grinned and gave him a small wave before resuming his conversation with the director.

As Dean followed Sam, he absolutely wasn’t thinking about the way Misha’s smile hit him like a punch to the gut. 

* * *

There was a chalk outline on the ground where the body had been removed and a dark patch where the blood had stained the floor.

Dean’s jacket lay to one side in a crumpled heap on the floor, torn and sticky with Dave’s blood. It was weird seeing it like that, as though it could easily have been Dean’s remains in the morgue.

“There’s no EMF,” Sam murmured as he ran his reader over the blood stain. “Doesn’t look like it was a spirit that did this.”

“I thought we already decided it was vampires,” Dean replied as he tore his eyes away from the shredded jacket. “So all we need to do is find the nest, torch it and the job’s done.”

Sam sighed. “When is it ever that easy, Dean? We have no idea where to even start looking for a vampire nest in a city this size and they don’t exactly like to advertise their whereabouts. LA is the perfect place to hide. No one is going to pay any attention to a gang that only comes out at night.”

“Right.”

He watched as Sam rose from his crouched position and started to pace. It was something he did when he was thinking, a habit he’d had since he was a kid and used to pace up and down whatever crappy motel room they were in while he tried to memorize stuff for his tests.

“They must be pretty close by,” Sam finally said as his pacing slowed. “Both murders happened during the day which is kind of weird for vampires anyway, but there’s no way they’d risk travelling far in the sunlight.”

Dean nodded. “So we should start checking the warehouses and stuff within, what, a mile radius of here?”

“It’s a good place to start. Come on, let’s get out of here. I can pull some maps off my computer and we can start from there.”

They’d barely made it out of the door when they were stopped.

“Dean! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Dean glanced over his shoulder in case there was some other Dean, and then at Sam who looked just as confused as he was. “Who? Me?”

“Yeah, you’re Misha’s PA, aren’t you?”

“I. . .what?”

“Yes,” Sam answered hurriedly, pushing him forward. “Sorry, he’s just a little. . .well, he hasn’t had his coffee yet.”

Dean shrugged helplessly. He had no idea what the hell was going on but he ran with it.

“Yeah, sorry, caffeine. Need it.”

“You can get as much as you want from Craft but right now I need you in Misha’s trailer. He wants you to run lines with him while we set up the next scene.”

“Okay. . .you know I’m not an actor, right?”

“Yeah, I _know_ that. You’re a P.A. That means personal assistant in case you’d forgotten, so go and assist.”

As the guy turned his back on them, Dean flipped him off. “Come on, Sam, let’s blow this joint.”

He started to move off and stopped when he realized Sam wasn’t following him.

“You know, if Misha needs you to help him out you could stay,” Sam said carefully. “I’ve seen the way you two have been looking at each other.”

“Are you nuts?” Dean asked. “I mean, I’m glad you want me to get laid as much as I do but vampire nest. People dying. Come on, Sam.”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It’s just. . .well, I’ll probably get the research done quicker if you’re not there telling me you’re bored every five minutes.”

Dean forced himself to look affronted. “Sammy, you wound me. I can do research.”

“Yeah, when I chain you down and force you,” Sam grinned. “Look, just stay here and help out your new friend. Run lines or whatever. I’ll call you when I’ve got some ideas of where we should be looking.”

“No going in by yourself,” Dean instructed. “Or I’ll kick your ass.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, Dean. I’m not suicidal. I’ll call you.”

“Okay, good. Well, I guess I’ll see you later then. Have fun.”

Sam grinned and Dean snorted. “Yeah, whatever, dude.”

He’d never admit to Sam that he was actually kind of excited about this. Finally he got to spend some more time alone with Misha.

He grinned and headed off in the direction of Misha’s trailer. This was going to be kind of awesome.

* * *

Misha’s eyes blazed with anger and a trace amount of fear as he stood in front of Dean, body trembling as he attempted to rein in his emotions.

“You need to leave,” he growled, his voice sending a wave of heat pooling in Dean’s gut. “Things were simpler before, and I want to go back to that.”

Dean smirked. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. See, I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to be anyone’s bitch and that includes you. You forget that I know everything about you. All those quiet moments alone in the dark? I’m there with you. I’m not going to leave, and you sure as hell aren’t going to leave me. Nobody leaves me.”

Dean snorted. He couldn’t help himself. “You know this script sucks, right? No offence.”

Misha blinked and in an instant he’d shed all traces of Michael Jameson. Dean could see all the tension melt from his body along with the fear and anger, replaced with his telltale relaxed amusement.

“No offence taken,” Misha grinned. “I guess I shouldn’t hold my breath for this year’s Oscar nominations then?”

“Hey, I’m not saying you were bad. You were pretty damn awesome, actually. But I reckon Sam could write a better script than this, while he’s wasted and half asleep.”

Misha set down the script and pulled a couple of beers out of the mini-fridge, tossing one to Dean and opening his own. “You weren’t too bad yourself. Did you ever think about doing this for a job?”

“Nah,” Dean dismissed with a wave of his hand and scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It’s not really me, you know. I like my jobs to be a little more hands on.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. A lot of the hunting gigs involved posing as various officials and Dean had learned pretty early how to pretend to be someone else. He preferred to think of it as conning rather than acting, though. It sounded more manly.

Misha took a seat and Dean sat down opposite him. 

“Hey, what’s with the flowers?”

There were several vases containing purple flowers dotted around the trailer and Dean was pretty sure they hadn’t been there last time he was here.

“Someone on set playing a prank,” Misha grinned. “I had a poem published last month and one of the lines was about Jacaranda petals so someone keeps leaving them for me. Kind of gives the place a bit of color, don’t you think?” 

Dean shrugged. “I guess.”

They drank in a companionable silence for a while and when Misha finished his beer he set the bottle down on the table with a resolute bang.

“Vampires.”

Dean paused, the bottle halfway up to his lips as he stared at Misha. “What?”

Misha looked serious. More serious than Dean had ever seen him look before, in fact. 

“When you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

Dean lowered his bottle slowly and cradled it in his lap, picking at the label with his thumb.

“Have you been smoking again?”

Misha shook his head. “You think I’m crazy, right? Look, I’ve seen a lot of weird shit in my time. It’s really not that farfetched to think that vampires might be real, is it? I mean, what other explanation is there? Trauma to the neck and nearly all the blood drained.”

He shrugged as though it was the most natural suggestion in the world and Dean honestly had no idea how to respond to that. He was used to dealing with hysterical people who were freaking out. It was easy to convince them they’d been seeing things, but Misha was so damn cool about the whole thing.

He matched Misha’s pose, sat back in his seat and drained the last of his beer. “Come on, you gotta know that’s nuts. I mean, sure there are some whackos out there but vampires? Did you watch a lot of Buffy when you were a teenager?”

Misha sighed. “I’m just saying it makes sense.”

“So, what, you gonna run around LA driving wooden stakes through the heart of every goth kid you come across?”

With every word Dean spoke Misha seemed to deflate a little, and Dean had to admit he felt kind of bad about it. Misha was a smart guy and clearly open to belief in the supernatural but it was better for him if he dropped this. Safer, for sure.

Dean rose to his feet and clapped Misha on the shoulder. “You should get some sleep. We had a pretty long night last night.”

He was about to move towards the door when Misha’s hand came up and covered his own where it still rested on Misha’s shoulder.

“I’m not crazy,” Misha said softly. There was a firmness to his voice that left no room for argument so Dean opted not to say anything. He pulled his hand away from Misha’s.

“I need to get back to Sam. We’ve got some work we need to do.”

Misha, thankfully, didn’t press the issue and Dean let himself out. They were going to have to be careful around him from now on. The guy was too damn perceptive for his own good.

* * *

“Vampires?” Sam said dubiously. “He actually said that?”

Dean nodded. “I don’t know if he really believed but he said he couldn’t think of any other explanation.”

“Well, he’s right,” Sam offered.

“Dude, I know that!” Dean let out a soft groan of frustration as he ground the ball of his hand into his eyes. The bender they’d been on the night before coupled with the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him now and he really just wanted to pass out in bed for a few hours. “I think I managed to convince him he was being stupid but I dunno. The sooner we find this thing the better.”

“You don’t think. . .” Sam trailed off and he looked at Dean warily. “I mean it’s not him, right? I like the guy and all but we don’t really know him. He is kinda pale and he’s got those blue eyes.”

“No,” Dean scoffed. “Sam, come on, there’s no way. If it were him, why would he make it so obvious? Vampires like to cover their tracks. Misha practically has a neon sign hovering over his head that says ‘I did this’ which means it’s a pretty safe bet that he didn’t.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so.”

Dean instinctively reached for his gun, and almost had it pulled when his brain caught up and he realized that he recognized the voice.

Misha was standing in the doorway of their motel room, looking half stunned and half smug, like he couldn’t decide which reaction was stronger. 

“Why the hell didn’t you lock the door?” Sam hissed.

“He did,” Misha replied. “I got pretty good at picking locks when I was a kid and this place isn’t exactly Fort Knox.”

“You make a habit of breaking into people’s motel rooms?” Dean asked. There was no way in hell he was going to let Misha see how much this was bothering him.

Misha shrugged. “You aren’t as good a liar as you think. You’re better than most but you have these tiny tells. I wanted to know why you’ve been lying to me so I followed you.”

Well, that was great. Dean marched over and grabbed Misha’s arm, dragging him into the room and kicking the door shut behind him.

“You stupid son of a bitch. I’ve been trying to keep you safe but you couldn’t let it be.”

Sam flashed Misha a sympathetic smile. “I know this is all a bit strange and you probably want an explanation.”

“What’s to explain?” Misha asked with a shake of his head. “Vampires are real and you guys hunt them. Does that about cover it?”

“Uh. . .yeah.”

Misha nodded. “Have you found the one that killed Simon and Dave yet?”

“We’re working on it,” Sam replied and gestured to his laptop. “I’m putting together a list of the most likely places the nest might be and then we’ll start checking it out.”

“You’re really okay with this?” Dean finally asked. “This isn’t one of those actor things where you’re freaking out on the inside but putting on a brave face for the hunters?”

“What would be the point in freaking out?” Misha asked. “All that does is waste time and energy.”

Sam shot Dean a look. He was impressed, Dean could tell. Dean didn’t know what the hell to think. This guy seemed to throw him for a loop every time they met. 

“So what happens when you find this thing?” Misha asked as he hovered behind Sam and looked at the computer screen with interest. “Stake through the heart?”

“Nah,” Dean replied. “These things are the real deal, not something from TV. Gotta cut the bastards’ heads off.”

“That sounds difficult,” Misha mused.

Dean shrugged. “You get used to it after a while.”

That seemed to grab Misha’s attention and he turned his head from Sam’s computer to face Dean. “Really? You’ve done this a lot then?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam butted in. “Dean’s practically an expert. Don’t worry, so long as he’s around you’ll be safe.”

Dean frowned, the creases on his brow deepening when Sam flashed him a mischievous grin. So, apparently little brother was trying to play matchmaker.

Misha moved over to Dean, eyes dark and lips parted slightly as his tongue snaked out to moisten them. “Could you teach me?”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“I think we all know this thing is specifically interested in me, although I have no idea why. If I’m next I want to at least know how to defend myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure Dean can show you his moves,” Sam volunteered, his grin widening. 

Misha smirked. “I can’t wait to see them.”

Really, everyone needed to stop helping him. Dean Winchester did not need help getting laid. “Oh, I’ll show you what I can do all right,” he practically growled. “Let’s go outside.”

He grabbed Misha’s arm and dragged him out of the motel into the parking lot out back. “Hit me.”

That, at least, seemed to confuse Misha momentarily and Dean couldn’t deny it gave him a small sense of satisfaction.

“What?” Misha asked.

“You want to learn how to fight, don’t you? I need to see what you’ve got. Hit me.”

“I haven’t ‘got’ anything,” Misha replied. “I don’t believe in violence. I’ve never hit anyone before.”

“Well, I guess I should be pleased there’s something you don’t know how to do,” Dean grinned. “I was starting to think you were perfect. You at least know how to make a fist, right? They taught you that for your fight scenes.”

Misha made a fist and Dean was pleased to see that he didn’t make the rookie mistake of putting his thumb on the inside. Quickest way to wind up with a busted hand. He’d learned that the hard way when he was a kid.

“Okay, throw a punch.”

Misha glanced down at his fist and then back at Dean like he wasn’t sure whether he was kidding or not.

“Come on, man, try and hit me. I need to see what I’m working with here.”

Misha swung and Dean stepped back from the punch easily. “Wow, you’ve really never hit anyone before, have you? You seriously never got into any bar fights or anything when you were a teenager?”

Misha shook his head. “I used to make my own vodka in our shed. Didn’t need to go to a bar.”

Dean grinned. That was pretty damn awesome, actually. Would have saved him from spending a lot of (admittedly illegally obtained) money if he’d been able to brew his own booze.

“Okay, the problem is you don’t actually want to hit me.”

Misha nodded. “Hit on you, sure.”

Dean had to admire the guy’s persistence. “Yeah, well, you won’t be hitting on anyone if you’re dead. Come on, you’re an actor. Pretend I’m someone you really hate and go for it. I guarantee you’re not going to hurt me. Now come on.”

Misha took a breath and Dean was startled at how quickly his face slipped into a dark rage. He swung at Dean again, harder and faster this time, and even though Dean was anticipating the attack he wasn’t prepared for how fast it was and Misha clocked him firmly on the jaw.

“Shit,” Misha hissed as Dean stumbled backwards. “Also, ow.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, I forgot to mention that unlike in the movies, punching someone actually hurts like a son of a bitch. You okay?”

Misha nodded. “Yeah, that actually felt surprisingly good. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Dean rubbed his jaw. “Nah, I’m good. That was pretty impressive for a second attempt. Who the hell were you thinking of?”

“No one specific, really,” Misha replied as he rubbed his hand and flexed his fingers. “More like a group of people. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was a kid and we got evicted from places a lot. Some of the asshole landlords tried to get my mom to pay the rent in other ways. She told them where to stick it, of course, but the fact that they even tried-”

Dean honestly had no idea what to say to that.

“I always wished I could do something about it,” Misha continued. “But I was just a kid. I just kind of got used to moving a lot. I still get antsy if I’m in one place for too long.”

Now that was something Dean could empathize with.

“I get that,” he replied. “After my mom died my dad used to travel across the country trying to find the thing that killed her. It’s how we got into the hunting business. We never stayed in the same place for more than a couple of weeks and we lived out of motels. I kind of hate it when I’m off the road for too long.”

Misha smiled. “So we have more in common than you think.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So when you told me you started watching movies when your dad was away, that was true?” Misha asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “When we were really little, Dad used to leave us with other hunters but when I got a bit older he started taking us with him and leaving us in the motel room. The first time he left me alone with the one instruction to keep Sam safe, I stayed up all night with his .45 because I was so sure something was going to get him if I fell asleep. There was this monster movie marathon on TV so I sat up and watched them all. You know, they were all about heroes beating monsters and I liked to think of my dad out there doing the same thing.” 

Misha flashed Dean a sympathetic smile. “He sounds like a really impressive man.”

“He was,” Dean nodded. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the guy had his faults, but he was my dad and the only reason I’m still alive is because he exchanged his life for mine.”

It was the first time he’d talked about it openly apart from that one time with Sam. He had no idea what the hell had possessed him to say it now, actually, but the words had just seemed to come out of him.

Misha stared at him for a moment, eyes wide and shining and for a second Dean thought the guy was actually going to cry. That was the last thing he needed.

“No chick flick moments,” he said thickly around the lump in his throat, and Misha nodded. He gave Dean’s arm a squeeze and then smiled at him.

“So, we’ve established that I suck at throwing a punch. Anything else I can do? Should I start carrying cloves of garlic around in my pocket?”

“I hate to break it to you,” Dean replied, glad to be back on familiar ground, “but if you face down a vamp you either cut its head off or you die. They can outrun you, have an awesome sense of smell and pretty much perfect night vision.”

“Oh,” Misha said flatly. “So we’re out here because. . .”

“We’re out here because Sam wanted us out of the way. He gets cranky if his research gets interrupted. Plus I think he’s got some sort of matchmaker deal going on. Like I need any help.”

Misha grinned. “Well, it’s nice to see I’ve got the family permission to woo you. Would you prefer flowers or a poem? Maybe a poem about flowers because as I’ve already told you, I’ve got that one nailed.”

“How about we save that until you’re off the vampire radar?” Dean replied. “Although all you need to do is buy me a beer. Save the chick stuff for the chicks.”

“Got it. Come on. Let’s go back inside and see if your brother has managed to track down the vampire that’s stalking me. Now there’s something you don’t often say in every day conversation.”

“You’d be surprised how often I wind up saying shit like that,” Dean replied and the two of them headed back inside.

“How did it go?” Sam asked. “You guys make any progress?”

“Oh, we definitely got somewhere,” Misha agreed. “How’s the search going?”

“I’ve narrowed it down but there’s still a whole bunch of places the nest could be.”

Dean watched as Misha moved around to stand behind Sam. “It won’t be there. That place is full of windows and there’s no basement.”

Really, nothing seemed to faze this guy at all. He just rolled with it.

“Hey, when do you need to be back at work?” Dean asked. “I’d hate to get my ass busted by the director for keeping you away.”

Misha waved his hand dismissively. “Movie’s been closed down until they find out who. . . or I guess what is killing off the crew. I told them I wasn’t working until they could guarantee everyone was going to be safe.”

“Oh,” Dean replied, suddenly feeling more than a little redundant as Misha and Sam went back to looking at maps. “I’ll go and get some coffee,” he muttered.

Neither Sam or Misha looked up from the computer screen. 

* * *

He didn’t go for coffee right away. It wasn’t like Sam and Misha seemed bothered about it anyway. Instead he got into his car and drove, just enjoying the rumble of the engine and the sound of Zeppelin pounding in the speakers. It wasn’t like there was much else for him to do until Sam got done with the research.

The drive wasn’t soothing him the way that it usually did. He had an itchy restless feeling crawling over his skin that made him want to get out of the car and do something nuts like go for a run. He was only a few miles out of town when he turned the car around and headed back to the motel.

He knew there was something wrong as soon as he pulled into the parking lot. On the surface nothing seemed to be different but that feeling in Dean’s gut spread as soon as he parked the car and his hand was on his gun before he’d fully got out of the vehicle.

The motel room door was open and Dean had to fight the urge to charge in. Instead he leaned around the door and peered into the room. The light was still on but Dean felt a cold wave of fear crash into him when he saw Sam’s chair overturned on the floor and obvious signs of a struggle. It was all he needed to see. There were no immediate signs of anyone and Dean figured if it was a trap they’d have made it less obvious that they were there.

He darted into the room, gun drawn. “Sam?”

Silence.

A quick scan of the room showed no sign of Sam or Misha and Dean quickly moved across the room to check the bathroom. He nearly tripped over Sam’s leg.

“Sammy?”

His brother was in a crumpled heap between the two beds, eyes closed and face pale. Dean dropped to his knees, sickness burning in his throat as he pulled Sam’s head into his lap. There was no blood, no sign of any wounds at all and when he ran his hand over Sam’s head there was no indication that he’d been hit with anything.

He felt for a pulse and sighed in relief when he found it. That was when the acrid smell hit his nostrils. He knew enough to recognize the smell of chloroform and it didn’t take him long to find the soaked cloth half under the bed. 

Dean eased Sam back onto the floor and disposed of the cloth in the bathroom. There was definitely no sign of Misha which left only two possibilities: Either Misha had attacked Sam or whoever attacked Sam had taken him. He didn’t want to admit that the first one was a possibility but he had to be reasonable about it. It’s not like he knew the guy, not really. All he knew was what Misha had told him and when the guy made a living out of pretending to be someone else, it didn’t exactly lend itself to trust.

He moved back over to Sam who was still out cold. What he really needed was clean fresh air but there was no way in hell Dean could move Sam’s dead weight by himself. Not without literally dragging him out to the car which was bound to draw attention to them.

He knelt back down and patted Sam’s cheek. “Come on. You need to wake up and tell me what happened.”

If Misha had been taken, they needed to act fast before he became the next corpse to turn up on the movie set. The thought made Dean feel kind of sick.

Sam made a soft noise in the back of his throat as his eyes quivered beneath their lids. Dean shook him again and was almost relieved when Sam let out a groan and weakly batted Dean’s hand away.

“Come on, Sam. Wake up.”

Sam’s eyes opened into slits and he groaned again before closing them. “Dean?”

“Yeah, dude, it’s me. You okay?”

Sam opened his eyes again, fully this time, and winced as he nodded his head. “Yeah, I think so.”

“What the hell happened?”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he sat up and leaned back against the end of the bed. Then his eyes widened. “Dean! We have to go! I came out of the bathroom and Misha was out cold on the floor. Someone jumped me from behind before I could get to him. It must be the vampires. They’ve got him.”

Dean had started to move before Sam even finished talking. He rose to his feet and extended a hand, pulling Sam up and bracing him when he stumbled.

“You good?”

Sam nodded. “Where the hell do we start? I narrowed down the list of potential places the nest could be in but there’s still dozens of them.”

“Wait, Misha seemed pretty sure that whoever did this works on the movie,” Dean replied as he started to pull an array of blades out of his duffle. “I know where we can start.” 

* * *

Now Dean was kind of glad the movie had been temporarily shut down. It meant there were fewer people around and all they had to do was make their way past the lone security guard, who was more interested in the studios where movies were actually being filmed.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked as Dean worked at the lock on one of the side doors of stage nine.

“I’m sure,” Dean replied firmly. 

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

Dean’s hands stilled on the lock for a moment. He’d been trying not to think about it. He was still trying not to think about it, actually. This shit was easier when it was just a job. This was why he didn’t let people get close.

He went back to work.

It didn’t take him long to get the door open and the two of them slipped inside.

“We should split up,” Dean said as he clicked on his flashlight. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”

As Sam disappeared into the dark, Dean paused. The vampires would have the advantage in the dark, with their keen senses, but if he switched the lights on it’d remove any possible chance of surprising them.

He decided to risk it. His hands closed around the handle of the machete strapped to his thigh. He had another one strapped to his back and a large knife concealed inside his jacket. No way in hell was he going against a bunch of these sons of bitches unprepared. He’d seen firsthand how fast they were and how dangerous. One on its own was bad enough, but if he was dealing with a whole pack. . .

Suddenly splitting up with Sam didn’t seem like such a good idea, but time was a factor here. He needed to get on with the search and fast, and he had to pray to God that he was right about this place. 

There’d been no sort of pattern to where the bodies had been found (and Dean was absolutely not thinking of Misha as a body). The first one had been found on set and the second in Wardrobe. He had no clue where to start looking and this place was pretty damn huge.

But it wasn’t long before he saw the light, quite literally. One of the large overhead spotlights switched on before he was more than a few feet across the main room and almost blinded him. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and when they did he froze.

The light was shining onto the set and onto Misha’s character’s bedroom specifically. 

The bed wasn’t empty.

Dean broke into a run, some small and stupidly naive part of his brain telling him that he wasn’t too late. That he could still save Misha.

He skidded to a halt beside the bed. Misha’s eyes were closed, his face pale, but even through the cold feeling of dread he could see that Misha was breathing, and that he didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere.

Thank God.

He quickly went into business mode. He needed to get Misha out of here before whoever (whatever) turned on the light came back. Because he wasn’t stupid enough to think Misha had been brought here just to have a nap. 

He shook Misha’s shoulder roughly. “Hey, we need to get the hell out of here.”

Misha lolled under the force of Dean’s pushing but showed no signs of waking. 

Shit.

“Looks like I’ve got to carry you. Again.”

Dean made a mental note to gripe about the number of times he’d had to carry Misha some time when their lives weren’t in imminent danger and Misha was actually awake to take note of it. He pulled Misha into a sitting position and braced himself, ready to heave Misha over his shoulder. 

The next thing he knew he was wrenched away from Misha and sent flying backwards until he slammed into the far wall with a loud and painful smack, the plywood cracking under his weight.

Instinct took over and Dean scrambled to his feet, machete already in his hand. He was tired, sore and pissed. Now he was ready to chop some damn heads off.

The vamp who’d got the drop on him was bent over the bed where Misha was still lying.

“You don’t get to touch him,” she growled as she rearranged Misha on the bed and stroked a hand through his hair.

Dean’s eyes scanned the room. Vampires always hunted in packs. No way was this chick alone and he needed to be ready to take on the rest of them. He really hoped Sam had heard him hitting the wall. Dean was good, but he doubted he could take on a full pack by himself.

Weirdly, she didn’t seem that interested in him now that she’d gotten him away from Misha and Dean tightened the grip he had on his weapon. Something wasn’t right here. He didn’t know what, exactly, but he trusted his gut.

“All I wanted was to help him.” The vampire still had her back to him, attention entirely focused on Misha. “If he’d just let me he could have done such amazing things.”

Things were starting to click into place. The deaths, the notes, the fact that it was all people connected to Misha somehow.

Dean snorted. “Are you seriously telling me you killed those people to, what, give him some sort of career boost? You’re insane.”

Slowly her hand stilled where it was still carding through Misha’s hair and she turned to face Dean. 

Holy shit.

“So they tell me,” Amber replied with a toothy smile. “Now, unless you want me to rip his throat out while you watch, I’d put that thing down.” 

Dean was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Amber, who had seemed nice and very much not insane when he’d met her on his first day, was actually an undead nutcase.

“Contrary to what my brother tells me, I’m not stupid. I put this down so the rest of your pack can tear me to pieces. I don’t think so.”

Amber’s eyes darkened as she moved away from Misha and closed the distance between herself and Dean.

“My _pack_?” she hissed. “My pack abandoned me decades ago, Dean. Left me to fend for myself. So that’s exactly what I did. I hid, lived off the homeless and destitute, and let me tell you that is a shitty way to live. Imagine living on rotten food every day for forty years. That was my life, until I discovered that instead of hiding and lurking in the shadows like I’d been taught was the way of our kind, that blending in was so much easier and more comfortable. I’ve got a nice apartment, a job that I actually love doing and easy access to all the fresh blood I want. Hollywood is pretty fantastic, you know.”

Dean was bored already. Why the hell did the things they hunted always insist on telling him their entire life story before he kicked their asses? He really didn’t give a crap about this sob story.

“You know, I love the movies,” Amber continued. “Always have, and that’s literal. I used to go and see the old Chaplin pictures when they came out. He used to make me laugh. You know he came from nothing. Used to be a regular guy until some executive spotted him and got him into the movies. That was what gave me the idea.”

Dean slipped his hand into his pocket and hit speed dial one on his phone. If he could keep Amber talking just a little while longer, Sam would hopefully figure out where they were. If she truly was alone, and at this point Dean had no reason to believe she was lying, then the two of them could take her down easily.

“What idea was that?” he asked. 

“Come on, Dean, I know you’re not that dumb. It must be obvious what I’m doing.” 

She moved back over to the bed and sat down on the edge. “Hollywood is a cut-throat industry. I’ve seen it progress and I’ve seen how it works. It’s not about talent a lot of the time, it’s about money. That’s why vapid, talentless teenagers make millions and people with real skill get overlooked and disappear between the cracks. So now, when I see someone with real potential, I give them a little help.”

She smiled down at Misha and brushed a hand over his cheek. “Misha here is very special, but then I guess you already know that. This movie could have made his career, it should have launched him into amazing things. But then they brought in that idiot script doctor who ruined the whole thing and turned it into a slasher horror movie.” 

“And that’s why you killed him?” Dean asked incredulously. “What was the point? They didn’t change the script just because the dude was dead.”

“No,” Amber agreed, “but it gave Misha genuine fear to draw on. I saw it. After he found Simon’s body his performance became phenomenal. Even with the bad script people would have seen how fantastic he was.”

“And the wardrobe guy?”

“He lost Misha’s costume.”

Dean blinked. “That was it? You killed him because he lost some clothes?”

“The clothes make the character, Dean. How would you feel if someone took that leather jacket of yours and threw it away?” 

This jacket had been his dad’s so, yeah, Dean couldn’t imagine not having it. It was one of the few things of his father’s that he had left.

He really hoped Sam was close now because he was running out of ways to stall. 

“So why kidnap him if you want him to become this great big star?” Dean asked.

“He didn’t appreciate my gifts,” Amber replied sadly. “And then he had the nerve to demand that the movie be shut down. This movie _has_ to be made if he’s going to amount to anything and since that’s not going to happen, I decided on another course of action.”

She leaned in close and nuzzled her face in Misha’s neck. Dean tensed, ready to attack if she showed any signs of harming him.

“I’ve been alone for a long time,” Amber said as she pulled back. “You have no idea what it’s like. So I thought I’d take a mate. He’s perfect. Smart, funny, kind, handsome and have you seen some of the positions he can bend his body into?”

She sighed wistfully. “You can walk away from this, you know. You seem like a decent guy and Misha seems to like you. Just leave us alone and I won’t hurt you.”

Dean was done waiting for Sam to arrive. “Sorry, no can do.” He struck before Amber could move, hoping to have the element of surprise on his hands. Unfortunately, the only thing surprising was how easily she swatted him to one side as though he was little more than an irritating bug.

Amber sighed and rose to her feet while Dean struggled to regain his footing. He’d always imagined the walls of movie sets to be flimsy. Wrong. Hitting it for the second time that evening hurt like a mother and the wall didn’t even show any signs of breaking.

“Do you think you’re the first hunter I’ve crossed paths with?” Amber asked with an almost indulgent smile as she crossed the room and yanked Dean to his feet. “When you’ve been alone for as long as I have you learn how to defend yourself pretty quickly.”

Dean’s weapon was halfway across the room now, knocked away when he’d hit the wall. Shit. 

Amber leaned in close, so close that her breath tickled Dean’s cheek. His feet weren’t even touching the floor now. This bitch was strong.

“It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten today,” she whispered against his neck and before Dean could do anything, she bit down.

Dean was used to dealing with pain. Hell, he’d been trained to deal with it since he was a little kid. What he wasn’t prepared for was how invasive being bitten felt, especially when no matter how hard he kicked out and struggled it didn’t make a damned bit of difference. He could feel his own blood warm and trickling down as Amber bit and slurped.

This was it. He was going to die.

For one eerie moment he was kind of relieved. He shouldn’t even be here, anyway. He should have died in that damn car wreck like he was supposed to and then his dad would still be alive. Hell, his dad would never have let himself get taken out by a single vampire like this. He’d have kept Misha safe, and he’d have known how to deal with whatever the hell was going on.

But the truth was, he _was_ here and if he bowed out now then the deal his dad had made would be for nothing. 

He lashed out again but it was too little, too late. He had no idea how much blood he’d lost but his movements were slow and sluggish. Everything felt like such an effort, like he was weighed down and just moving was a struggle. He kicked out at Amber and she didn’t even pause.

“Hey.”

That caused her to stop and Dean grunted as he felt the teeth withdraw from his throat, causing a fresh flow of blood to trickle. He clamped his hand against the wound while Amber’s attention was directed elsewhere.

“Misha?”

Misha was on his feet, swaying slightly but upright and with Dean’s machete gripped tightly in both hands. Amber was apparently so surprised that she let Dean drop to the floor as she turned to face him.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” she said gently, in a tone that was usually reserved for small children and spooked animals. “You might want to put that thing down unless you plan on using it, though.”

If it had been Dean wielding the weapon, he’d have cut the bitch’s head off by now. He could see the uncertainty in Misha’s eyes, though. Misha knew Amber, and now that she’d put the teeth away she looked almost like the woman Dean had met on his first day on set. Apart from the blood smeared all over her face, of course.

“I think I’m okay right here, actually,” Misha said, even if he did sound uncertain about it.

“Just let me talk before you start chopping heads off,” Amber continued in that same soothing voice. “Just listen to what I have to offer you.”

Misha’s eyes flicked over to Dean and then back to Amber.

“I’m offering you a gift, Misha. Eternal life. All that good I know you want to do? Imagine being able to do it forever. Think of all the people you can help, think of all the joy you can bring to their lives just by being you.”

“And all I have to do is kill a few people to live, right?”

“What’s a few lives compared to the hundreds, maybe thousands you’ll be able to make better? You should accept my gift, Misha, because if you don’t. . .”

Dean knew what would happen if Misha refused. Amber wasn’t exactly leaving much to the imagination.

Misha lowered his weapon. “Your offer is very tempting. You know all I want to do is help people and bring a little creativity into the world, but you’re forgetting one very important thing.”

Amber frowned. “What? No, I’m not. I know everything there is to know about you.”

Misha moved in close, tilted his head and for a second Dean actually thought he was going to kiss her.

“Eternal life is an amazing gift but there’s only one problem.”

Amber frowned.

“I’m a vegetarian.” 

Before she could reply, Misha swung.

Unfortunately, while Dean had told Misha that the only way to kill a vampire was to cut its head off, what he hadn’t prepared him for was how difficult that actually was.

The blow Misha dealt hit the mark perfectly, but it only cut halfway through Amber’s neck. Dean could only watch the look of horror on Misha’s face as he was covered in a streak of blood as Amber let out a choked growl and lunged at him. He pulled the blade loose and swung again and again, not waiting between blows until eventually her head hit the floor.

Dean struggled to his feet as Misha looked about ready to throw up or pass out. His face and chest were now soaked in Amber’s blood.

“Vegetarian?” Dean asked with a weak groan. The wound on his neck had almost stopped bleeding now but he still felt like shit.

Misha shrugged. “I used to be. It was the first thing that popped into my head.”

Dean grinned. “Still, that was pretty badass of you.”

Misha simply sighed and dropped the weapon to the floor. “Are you all right?”

“Me?” Dean asked in the most chipper voice he could manage. “I’m peachy.”

But then his body betrayed him and his legs buckled. Misha grabbed hold of him before he could fall and pulled him close.

“Maybe you should try that again when you’re not about to pass out.”

“Oh, my god, Dean! Are you okay?” 

Dean found himself pulled from Misha’s arms into Sam’s and was vaguely aware that it didn’t feel half as good. 

“Cavalry’s a little late, Sammy,” Dean grinned.

Then his body finally decided enough was enough and he passed out.

* * *

Waking up was a real pain in the neck and if Dean had felt less like Death warmed over, he might have laughed at his own joke. Instead he let out a groan and threw his arm over his eyes when opening them just caused him more pain.

“You okay?” Sam asked, his voice coming from close by. “I patched up the hole in your neck and you didn’t lose enough blood to need a transfusion. You might feel a bit out of it for a while, though.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Dean groaned.

He chanced opening his eyes and found it didn’t hurt so much on a second attempt. 

They were back in their motel room Sam sitting at the table with his laptop open in front of him.

“Please tell me you’re watching porn and not looking for another job.”

Sam chuckled. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we should take that vacation now. I’ve been looking at places we can go once you’re feeling better. I was thinking maybe we could avoid movie related stuff, though.”

“What? You wanna go shopping on Rodeo Drive with our fake credit cards?”

Dean could just imagine them getting kicked out of every store they went into because they didn’t look right. He’d seen Pretty Woman, not that he’d ever tell Sam that. He’d been kind of bummed at the lack of Julia Robert’s nudity considering she was playing a hooker.

In fact, now that he thought about it he was kind of over the whole Hollywood thing. 

“Maybe we should just get out of here,” he suggested. “If you still want a vacation, there’s that cabin in the woods that Pastor Jim used to own. We could stock up on food and hole up in there for a while and just get away from everything.”

Sam just stared at him, looking half incomprehensive and half disappointed.

“What?”

“I just figured now the whole psycho vampire killer thing was over that maybe you’d want to spend some time with Misha. You guys seem pretty tight, and he’s a decent guy. There’s not many who would go through what he did and not be a crazy mess at the end of it. You could do worse, and you have.”

“Fuck you, man. I have awesome taste.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, Misha clearly doesn’t though.”

Dean flipped Sam off which just made his brother laugh.

“Well, clearly you’re feeling better.”

Dean had to admit that he did.

He propped himself up and poked at the gauze pad that Sam had meticulously taped over the wound on his neck. It hurt like a son of a bitch but was far from the worst injury he’d had. 

“So where is he anyway? Gone back to a life of signing autographs and demanding weird shit in his trailer?”

Sam shrugged. “He said he was going to talk to the cops about Amber. I have no idea how the hell he’s going to explain the headless corpse in the middle of the set but he promised me he could handle it and told me to take care of you in the meantime.”

Wouldn’t Dean have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. ‘Oh, yes, our camera four operator was actually a vampire and I hacked her head off to save my friend from becoming her next meal’.

He really hoped Misha had come up with something better than that.

Maybe he should find out.

He shuffled to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over. So far so good. Now to try standing. 

Sam watched him with curious interest but made no move to help. He knew better after all the time they’d been travelling together.

Dean rose to his feet, staggered when everything faded out of focus for a minute but managed to stay upright. Yeah, he was awesome.

“So,” he said, aiming for casual, “I thought I might go back to the studio. Just check they haven’t thrown Misha’s ass in jail.”

Sam made a half-shrug, half-nod gesture. “You might want to take a shower first, dude. You’ve been out of it for twelve hours and you smell pretty ripe.”

Dean switched direction from the front door and headed towards the bathroom. 

Shower.

He could do that.

* * *

“Well, at least you’re not in jail.”

It was the first thing that popped out of Dean’s mouth when he walked into Misha’s trailer. Yeah, sometimes he was an asshole.

“I’m not in jail,” Misha confirmed. “In fact, it was surprising how quickly the police were ready to believe that Amber was just a regular psychopathic stalker and that I killed her in self defense.”

Dean shrugged. “People are pretty good at ignoring stuff that they don’t want to see.”

He’d experienced it a lot during his time as a hunter, and he had to say that it made his job easier when people didn’t ask too many questions so he just went with it.

Misha moved over to him and brushed his hand over the gauze pad. “Are you alright?”

“I’m peachy.”

The silence hung between them, thick and awkward, made even more so by the fact that Misha’s hand was still resting on Dean’s neck. When he’d woken up it had felt really important that he see Misha, but now he was here he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to say.

“So, we should have sex,” Misha suggested. 

Dean blinked. 

“We’ve been through a traumatic experience and it seems to me that now is the best time to resolve all that sexual tension we’ve been experiencing.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and while Dean had no problem at all with the idea he really hadn’t expected the offer to be so blunt. He should have known better, really.

He smirked. “I knew you were only interested in my hot body.”

“On the contrary, it was your fine PA skills that attracted me to you.”

“Yeah, I am pretty awesome,” Dean agreed with a shrug.

“And you’re wearing too many clothes,” Misha replied with a hungry smile.

Dean couldn’t argue with that and he tugged off his jacket while Misha moved through the trailer and pulled down all the blinds, slowly and meticulously.

“That’s more like it,” Misha said when he finally turned back and found Dean stripped down to his boxers.

“Now who’s wearing too many clothes,” Dean smirked.

“Allow me to rectify that.”

Misha removed his clothes in the same way that he’d drawn the blinds in the trailer. Slowly and carefully. Dean knew Misha was putting on a show and he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

Misha didn’t stop when he got to his underwear, though. Instead he smirked and pushed his boxers down until they dropped around his feet. Dean simply quirked an eyebrow and met the unspoken challenge, quickly removing his own boxers so that they both stood naked in the middle of the room.

For a moment Misha just stared at him, and Dean took the opportunity to take a good look at him. It wasn’t that he made a regular habit of fucking guys, he loved tits way too much for that, and he sure as hell didn’t have a type of guy he went for.

Misha wasn’t at all like Dean expected. He figured being an actor he’d spend every moment at the gym getting ripped but he was actually kind of slender. Not scrawny or anything like that, just compact.

Misha was already hard and Dean felt his own body responding to the sight of Misha’s naked body. 

Then, without warning, Misha stepped closer and into Dean’s personal space. Their cocks brushed against each other, barely touching but it was enough for Dean. He surged forward and crushed his mouth against Misha’s, grinding against him as though his life depended on it.

Misha let out a low growl at the back of his throat and steered Dean backwards towards the bed. Dean let out a soft grunt when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he toppled backwards.

The bed wasn’t huge, but considering they were in a trailer there was more room than Dean had expected.

“You’d be surprised how much can be done in a bed this size,” Misha said with a grin as he apparently read Dean’s mind.

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you show me.”

The smile Misha flashed him was nothing short of predatory as he placed one hand on either side of Dean’s body and slowly crawled up the bed.

“How do you like it, Dean?” Misha asked with dark eyes and a look of hunger on his face. “Do you want to fuck me or do you want to lie back and let me show you what I can do?” 

“Uh. . .”

Shit, it had been way too long since he’d been in this situation with a guy.

Misha grinned. “How about you let me take care of you.”

Apparently, it wasn’t a question. Misha was already nipping at Dean’s collarbone, hard enough to cause Dean to tense.

Misha pulled back right away. “Sorry, too soon for biting, huh?”

Dean shrugged. No way in hell he was admitting how freaked he’d been when Amber had sunk her teeth into him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that now, of all times. 

But Misha simply flashed him an understanding smile and pressed a soft kiss to the area he’d marked and then moved down to Dean’s nipple. 

There was no biting this time, only teasing with his tongue and fuck it felt good. Dean let out a soft groan as Misha licked and sucked. He trailed kisses down Dean’s quivering stomach until his lips were around Dean’s cock.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed as Misha tongue teased the base of his balls.

Misha simply hummed and it vibrated through his whole cock, and for a second Dean was worried he was going to shoot his load right there. His hands gripped Misha’s hair as he licked and sucked, doing things to Dean’s cock that he’d never even imagined were possible.

Just when Dean thought he was going to come, Misha pulled back and Dean let out a growl of frustration.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Misha grinned. “Roll over.”

Any protests Dean might have had fell away when he realized that they hadn’t even got to the good stuff yet. He rolled over and braced himself on his hands and knees. He could hear Misha moving around behind him and opening a drawer. 

He sniffed. “What the hell?”

“Oh, my lube is made from natural coconut oil,” Misha answered brightly and Dean felt the bed dip as Misha came back. 

Of course it was.

“Dude, I’m gonna smell like a chick,” Dean grumbled.

“Well, it’s all I’ve got,” Misha replied. “Besides, when I get done with you you’re going to smell like sex.”

Dean couldn’t exactly argue with that.

He felt Misha’s hand spread the cheeks of his ass and closed his eyes as the first finger entered him. Misha knew what he was doing, he hadn’t been kidding about that. Dean was already trembling and when the second finger was quickly followed by a third he was grinding his teeth and trying desperately to think of anything that would stop him from coming too soon. 

When Misha finally entered him it felt so fucking good that Dean wondered why he didn’t screw guys more often, especially when Misha’s arm wrapped around him and stroked his cock while he thrust inside him. Sure, women had the awesome tits and plenty of other things they could do that made Dean go cross-eyed with pleasure, but this was something else entirely.

“Fuck, yeah,” Dean groaned. “You’re awesome.”

“You’re not bad yourself,” Misha purred in his ear.

Dean wasn’t exactly used to surrendering control like this. Usually he was the one who guided what happened in bed but he had to say, letting himself get fucked like this was pretty damn hot.

“Don’t come yet,” Misha instructed as though Dean had some sort of control over it. “Savor the moment. Just breathe and focus on the here and now.” 

With Misha’s rough voice low in his ear, Dean was trying really hard to focus on anything. Was he even aware how hot he sounded?

Dean really wasn’t into the whole hippie shit that Misha was but he took a breath and focused on the feeling of Misha moving inside him. He half expected some sort of divine mystical revelation but as he breathed and focused, the only thing he was aware of was the sound of Misha breathing.

“Do you feel it?” Misha asked. 

“I feel—“ Lights exploded behind his closed eyes, like a firework display going off only about a hundred times more intense. 

“Fuck!”

Dean came, but it was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was like everything that made him who he was, all his energy, strength and vitality mixed with an equally powerful force coming from Misha and it almost knocked him out. 

He collapsed onto the bed, Misha falling on top of him, and the two of them drew in ragged breaths as they tried to collect themselves.

“You felt that, didn’t you?” Misha asked as he rolled off Dean and flopped onto his back beside him. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

All Dean could manage was a nod of his head. He felt limp, exhausted and exhilarated all at the same time.

“That was pretty fucking awesome,” he finally managed to gasp.

Misha nodded. “I’ve been practicing Tantra for years but you did pretty good considering it was your first time.”

They lay there, side by side, listening to each other breathe. Dean knew he should probably say something but his mind was empty of anything except how good that had felt.

He fell asleep still trying to come up with adequate words to describe what he’d been feeling.

* * *

Dean desperately wanted to ignore the ringing sound that woke him up, especially considering he was warm and comfortable and had an arm slung across his waist. He really wasn’t the cuddling sort at all, but considering his muscles felt like Jell-O right now he couldn’t have moved even if he’d wanted to, which he didn’t.

Misha grunted and buried his nose in Dean’s neck. “Make it go away.”

Dean really wished he could without moving so instead he settled for closing his eyes and hoping whoever it was would get bored and hang up.

Five minutes later there was a loud knock on the door.

“God damnit,” Dean muttered as Misha let out another groan of protest. “Don’t you get any peace?”

“Nature of the job,” Misha sighed and rolled out of bed with what looked like surprisingly little effort. Dean could barely manage to raise his head and watch as Misha pulled on his robe and answered the door.

“It’s for you,” he called over his shoulder and right then Dean was pretty sure that the universe hated him.

He staggered to his feet and just about managed to stay upright as he reached for his clothes which were still in a pile on the floor near the bed. Even pulling on his t-shirt felt like a huge effort and that was nothing compared to bending down to pull on his boxers and jeans.

As soon as he was dressed he stumbled over to the door and winced as the daylight almost blinded him

“Hey,” Sam said with a sheepish grin. “Sorry to bother you but we’ve had a call from Dad’s old Marine buddy, Deacon. He’s got a job for us over in Little Rock, Arkansas.”

When Dean felt a little more like himself he was going to have a serious talk with his brother about his workaholic tendencies, and an even sterner talk about interrupting his private time.

He glanced over his shoulder at Misha who gave him an understanding smile.

“I’ll give you guys a few minutes,” Sam said and made a hasty retreat. At least he had some idea about when to make himself scarce.

Dean scratched the back of his neck. Usually he’d make some excuse and be gone before the sheets were cold but his usual BS wouldn’t wash with Misha, he knew that, and he didn’t want it to.

“Time for you to go and save more lives,” Misha said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Dean replied.

“Hey, this is what it is,” Misha said with a smile. “I’m not expecting an epic romance, any more than you are. We had a good time, we shared an experience and it doesn’t need to be anything more than that.”

“Right,” Dean agreed. He wasn’t under any illusions either. He knew it could never be anything more than this. All hunters knew that the job was a solo gig. Hell, most of the hunters got into the job in the first place because they’d lost someone close to them. He sure as hell wasn’t going to drag Misha into their world, and it sounded like he didn’t want that either.

It didn’t exactly make him feel better.

“So, what’s next for you?” he asked, deciding to change the subject before he turned into a total girl and started crying about his feelings or some shit. “What’s the next movie I should be looking out for?”

“Got an audition for a TV show, actually. Not the starring role but something pretty good for me to sink my teeth into. It’s a horror show, like I haven’t had enough of that in my life this week.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it. So, what’s the role? They got you playing some sort of Lestat wannabe or is it something awesome like Buffy?” 

“None of the above,” Misha replied. “It’s not really that sort of show, I don’t think. The role I’m going for is an angel.” 

His eyes brightened. “Hey, you know all about this stuff. Care to talk me through it so I’ve got some background material to draw on for my audition?” 

Dean smiled and patted his arm. “Sorry, dude, no such thing as angels.”

Misha’s face fell. “Oh.”

“But I think you’ll make an awesome angel,” Dean quickly amended. “Not sure I can see you with a harp and halo but you’re awesome so I’m sure you can make it work.” 

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and instead of wearing a diaper they’ll have me wearing something a little more interesting.”

“I’ll look out for that.”

They hovered for a moment and Dean remembered why he usually snuck out while his hookup was still asleep. Saying goodbye was always awkward.

Misha smiled and kissed him. “Kick some ass for me.”

“You can count on it,” Dean grinned and he hopped down the trailer steps before things got weird again. “Thanks, man. It’s been. . . an experience.”

“It’s surprising how often I hear that,” Misha replied, and with a grin and a wave he closed the door to his trailer.

Dean shook his head and crossed the lot to where Sam was waiting in the car.

“You okay?” Sam asked as he tossed him the keys.

Dean nodded as he slid into the seat and pushed his Zeppelin tape into the player. “I’m awesome. How about you, Sammy? How you doing?”

Sam smiled. “I’m getting there.”

He couldn’t ask for more than that.

“Awesome. Time to go hunt some evil sons of bitches.”

“And raise a little hell,” Sam added with a grin.

The End.


End file.
